


looking down from way up high

by the_other_lutece_sister



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, i just want them to make out :(, kind of a sequel to gone for miles now i guess, propunk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 06:58:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_other_lutece_sister/pseuds/the_other_lutece_sister
Summary: Sarah visits Rachel in the seedy hotel room. A kind of sequel to 'gone for miles now', so you might want to read that first. Probably still spoilery for OB S.5 E.8 if you haven't seen it yet.





	looking down from way up high

**Author's Note:**

> You keep pretending that the truth just isn't there  
> I try to hide I close my eyes  
> If you can't see me I can't see you, am I right?  
> But I'm wrong In your eyes  
> I guess it's easy looking down from way up high  
> Oh You think you know me so well  
> Got me all figured out  
> But when you're all by yourself  
> Can you look in the mirror?  
> King Killa by Memorecks feat. Jenna Pemkowski

The day after the art show, Sarah was drinking coffee and poking around the loungeroom, wondering how Benjamin had managed to get Ferdinand’s blood out of the floorboards so neatly, when S walked back in the front door. Her eyebrows raised as she saw Sarah.

 

“You’re up early, love,” she said, adding under her breath, “for once.” She moved through into the kitchen, plonking down worn canvas bags full of groceries. Kira and Charlotte would be back that afternoon and they needed supplies.

 

“Mmhm,” Sarah kept frowning at the floor, fidgeting with the cup in her hands. S came out and leaned on the doorway, arms folded.

“You’d be amazed at what baking soda can do,” she said, and Sarah heard the unspoken _don’t ask unless you really want to know_ under the cheerful Irish tones.

 

“Yeah, right,” Sarah muttered, and followed S back into the kitchen, deposited her empty mug in the sink and began to help put away the food. After a few minutes, S stopped and looked at her.

 

“C’mon, love, what’s up? You’re being far too helpful.” Her piercing blue eyes examined Sarah’s face, then softened slightly. “Take more than that to get rid of me, Sarah. Stop worrying.”

Sarah placed a can on a shelf, glanced at S, then ran a hand through her hair.

 

“I just…” she folded her arms, leant back on the bench and looked out the window. “I don’t get why Rachel called you. Since when does she give a shit about us?” _And if she hadn’t_ ... _I might have stumbled home last night and found…_ she shook herself, pushing herself away from the bench, and going back to grabbing stuff out of the bags, piling it up on the table, trying to fit it all together, like tetris.

 

“She’s a dark horse, that one,” agreed Siobhan, gathering up the empty bags and stuffing them in a drawer. She wiped her hands on the tea towel, found a scrap of paper and scribbled something on it, then handed it to Sarah. She frowned down at it, pausing with a packet of biscuits in one hand. Her eyes flicked back up to meet Siobhans.

 

“Why don’t you go ask her yourself?” The woman’s face was carefully neutral, and Sarah wondered why S suddenly had time for the bitch who had put a bloody knife in her daughter’s leg, who had taken Kira away at gunpoint.

And then given her back.

Sarah stared down at the hotel name and room number, and thought about the moment the elevator doors had opened and she had seen Kira lying there, limp and still on the gurney. She had immediately leapt to the worst assumption, and started yelling, barely registered that Rachel was wearing an eyepatch again and what that might mean. She closed her eyes and pictured her again, standing in that cold white corridor, wearing some kind of silky gown and the black eyepatch covering the...there was something so wrong about the picture. Something...

 

She screwed her face up and met Siobhan’s eyes again.

 

“Dunno if that’s such a good idea,” she said doubtfully. _What if she tries to kill me again? Even worse, what if she doesn’t?_

 

S gave her a sharp look, then gave a shrug.

 

“She might not even be there anymore. I’m sure she has places to be. Up to you, love.”

 

“Mm,” Sarah mumbled, and shoved the scrap of paper into her pocket, then snagged her jacket from the chair she’d left it on. “I’m gonna head to Felix’s, see if he needs a hand cleanin’ up.”

 

“Alright, chicken.” Siobhan voice said she knew where Sarah was going but was pretending not to, then, as Sarah opened the front door, she called out - “Arthur is dropping the girls off at two o’clock, Sarah, make sure you’re back by then!”

 

“Right,” Sarah called back and pulled the door shut with a bang. She dug her hands in her pockets and started walking towards the loft. And then she took a slight detour.

 

When she was standing in front of the hotel room door with her hand raised to knock, she faltered. What was she doing here? The last person Rachel would want to see was her. Always had been.

_I need to make sure she’s not cookin’ something else up, make sure she’s…_

Sarah certainly wasn’t here to thank her, or see if she was okay. She just didn’t, _couldn’t_ , trust her, that was all. This was a safeguard, necessary.

 

She thumped on the door. When there was no sound from inside, she hesitated, then tried the knob. The door swung open and Sarah stepped past the cabinet and the weird old wallpaper, and saw Rachel silhouetted against the window, the white morning light giving her a kind of halo. As Sarah moved closer, she saw Rachel’s face in the small round mirror she had propped up on the breakfast table, one eye staring out at her balefully, the other side of her face bruised and raw looking.

Sarah stopped short, and her eyes skimmed around the room, landing on the patterned bedspread, the mismatched furniture, the cheap-fancy bedhead, anything but that dull redness of a stitched-up eyelid.

 

_If I’d never...if she hadn’t…_

 

Then Rachel snapped the eyepatch back over her head, positioning it just so with the tips of her fingers, and spoke like her throat was bleeding gravel.

 

“What do you want, Sarah?” She folded a hand and rested her jaw on it, thumb tracing the bone back and forth, still looking at Sarah through the mirror. Her movements were measured, careful, even more so than usual. Sarah stared at the back of her head, the faint curl in the blond hair.

She’d never even imagined Rachel Duncan could look even slightly scruffy. For a moment she had an urge to brush her hair, like she did Kira’s. But she could imagine how _that_ would go over. She folded her arms, fingers digging into her elbows.

 

“Rachel -” she said, _shit, I shouldn’t have come,_ “uh...you alright, then?” She saw an eye narrow ever so slightly in the mirror, then Rachel swivelled the chair around, and looked up at Sarah.

Her face was pale above a high-necked black dress, lips not made up. Hands folded delicately in her lap. Her mouth moved in an approximation of a smile.

 

“Never better,” she said, then raised her eyebrow slightly as if to say, _and?_

 

Sarah uncrossed her arms, shoved her hands into her back pockets, and nodded.

 

“Right.” Looking at Rachel with the eyepatch on wasn’t much easier. Sarah still felt small stabs of guilt every time, and the resentful justification that came along with it. She shifted on her feet, looking around the room again. Rachel looked wrong here, in this dimly lit room with cheaply carved wood everywhere.

There were a lot of things wrong in this room, like Sarah even being here.

 

Rachel gave a small sigh, and stood up, fingers barely touching the table edge for balance. There was a small kitchen area (a kettle, a toaster, a single hotplate), and she walked over to it with her odd little lilting walk ( _your fault,_ whispered Sarah’s brain. But she didn’t seem to need the cane anymore, so that was good, right?).The black dress reached to her ankles. Somehow she had secured an actual teapot and a fancy tin of loose leaf.

 

“I’d offer you a cup,” she said over her shoulder, “but I’d hate to see good tea go to waste again.”

 

Sarah shook her head, even though Rachel wasn’t looking at her.

 

“Nah, I’m good,” she rubbed her forehead, still feeling the effects of last nights celebratory efforts. “There a mini-bar in this dump?”

 

Rachel slowly turned around and fixed Sarah with her eye.

 

“It’s eleven am, Sarah.” There was disapproval in her voice, but it was the kind that she’d often heard in Alison’s voice - it was only there until you convinced them to join in. Sarah shrugged.

 

“Big night, wasn’t it.” She walked over to the nearest cupboard and pulled it open. Nothing but a bible and some dead flies. The bible reminded her of Helena and she made a mental note to go and see her again this week, maybe tomorrow. “Hair of the bloody dog, and all.”

Rachel sighed again, and opened the cupboard next to the squat little fridge.

 

“I’m sure you’ll find something to your taste in there,” she sniffed, going back to warming the teapot, and measuring precise spoonfuls of Earl Grey. Sarah sauntered over, bending down and grabbing all of the little bottles, dumping them in a clinking pile on the short bench. She made short work of sorting them out, dark spirits on one side, white on the other. After Rachel poured herself some tea, Sarah very deliberately set the miniature gin down next to her cup.

The spoon stopped stirring as Rachel stared at the bottle. Then she nodded, once, and Sarah grinned, cracked the lid open, and poured the gin into the teacup. The spoon recommenced stirring.

For herself, she scooped up the bourbon, whiskey, and, _what the hell_ , the tequila and brandy. The bottles lined up on the coffee table and glinted dully in the narrow shafts of light slicing through the heavy curtains. She sat on the floor next to them. The bourbon was the first to go, all at once. Sarah had that second of wondering if she was gonna throw up, then everything settled, and her head stopped aching quite so much. She fidgeted with the empty bottle, scratching at the label, trying to peel it off.

 

“I kind of wanted to say,” she began, and Rachel looked at her, sipping her tea. Her nose wrinkled just a tiny bit, then she took a bigger sip. As Sarah chewed on her lip and the silence grew, Rachel lifted her eyebrow, somehow radiating impatience.

 

“Sarah, please. I have a flight to catch in,” she glanced at her watch, “three hours, and I -”

 

‘Thank you,” Sarah blurted out, voice louder than she’d expected. Then, softer, “Just wanted to thank you. For warning mum about that creep.” She opened another bottle without looking at it, tipped it into her mouth. “I dunno why you did, but you did and S is okay, and…” she trailed off, finished the second bottle, then dared a glance at Rachel’s face.

 

She was looking down at Sarah, face expressionless, one hand at her throat. The teacup lifted in a smooth curve to her mouth, her eye closing as she emptied the contents. Then she made her slow way back over to the table and chairs, past Sarah cross-legged on the floor, taking the seat she had been in when Sarah had arrived.

 

“I hope you’re not expecting me to join your little…” her mouth twisted slightly, “ _sisterhood._ ” She turned the chair so she was facing the standing mirror again, and a hand hovered over an array of brushes. One was chosen and Rachel began to smooth powder along her cheeks.

 

Sarah snorted and picked up another bottle.

 

“Who else have you got?” It came out more sharply than she had intended, and she opened the bottle, the little metal lid snapping.

Rachel had gone very still.

 

“Don’t presume to know _who_ or _what_ I have, Sarah.” The brush was placed down with a definite _click._

 

Sarah shuffled forward a little, so she was on Rachel’s right, looking up at her profile.The alcohol was swimming around her system now, making all sorts of things seem possible. She took a swig of tequila, then tipped her head to the side.

 

“Look, I’m not expectin’ you to…” she waved a hand, the movement catching Rachel’s eye and making her head turn towards Sarah a fraction, “...come around for slumber parties and..and…” Her eyes lit on Rachel’s wrist, at the bit of blue thread poking out of the sleeve. “...make friendship bracelets for each other, yeah?”

Rachel followed Sarah’s gaze, and tucked the blue thread back inside the black sleeve, fingers precise as they folded themselves back in her lap. She lifted her eye back up to Sarah’s.

 

“How is Kira?” she asked, voice flat but eye bright.

 

Sarah grinned crookedly.

 

“She’s good, yeah.” she shifted again, slightly closer. She could reach out and touch Rachel now, if she wanted to. But.

 

“They’ll be after you now, right? Now that you’ve aired all their dirty laundry ‘n all.” She edged closer, and now she did reach out, fingers grazing against Rachel’s elbow, sliding down to her wrist, barely touching the skin. “S has contacts. We can, I dunno, help. Somehow.”

Rachel went very still under her touch.

 

“I have my own contacts, Sarah,” she said, suddenly sounding exhausted. She didn’t move a muscle. Sarah withdrew her hand, looked at her, and shrugged.

 

“Alright, then.” She pushed herself up from the carpet, stood, swayed little as the alcohol caught up with her, and balanced herself with knuckles on the table edge. She looked into the mirror, moved her head until she could just see the one eye of Rachel in the reflection, the stillness of her mouth. Without the armor of red it looked so much like her own.

 

Rachel stirred, lifting her head so she was looking up at Sarah’s face, exposing her throat. Sarah glanced down and saw the just-visible bruises, frowned, lifting a hand to almost touch them. She didn’t.

 

“Guess I’ll get going, then,” she said softly, watching the way Rachel’s mouth tightened, then open slightly, as if to say _yes good leave._ Driven by some impulse she didn’t want to think about, Sarah leaned down and kissed her, expecting to be shoved away. What she didn’t expect was the tiny sound Rachel made in her throat. She raised a hand to touch Rachel’s face, but it was stopped in mid air, nails digging into the wrist, as the kiss deepened.

She could taste bergamot and juniper.

 

Then Rachel did shove her away, gently enough to seem regretful, and Sarah blinked, straightened up, and thought _bloody hell that was..._ she raked a hand through her hair, fuzzily wondering why she had even…

 

Rachel had turned back to the mirror, examining her face as if something might have rubbed off Sarah and onto her. Seemingly satisfied that it had not, she picked up a tube of lipstick, then looked at Sarah through the reflection, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Goodbye, Sarah,” she said. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, although the tone had been dismissive.

 

Sarah hesitated, though her legs jittered, telling her to _run_. Fast.

 

“Yeah. Uh. Take care.” The words sounded hollow and ridiculous, considering. She took one last look at the face in the mirror, red lips emerging under Rachel’s careful hands. _you said what you came to say now get out._ She turned, walked over to the door, half expecting Rachel to say _wait_ , or, _why._

 

But there was only silence, so Sarah left, pulling the door shut behind her with a click.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! thanks even more for kudos/comments <3


End file.
